


Food Prep

by Anonymous



Series: untitled osamei series [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established SunaOsa, Food play (sort of), Kitchen Sex, M/M, Not Beta Read, Open Relationships, OsaMei, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:26:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29607336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Meian experiences firsthand how Osamu preps the food in Onigiri Miya... and maybe something more.
Relationships: Meian Shuugo/Miya Osamu
Series: untitled osamei series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178702
Comments: 10
Kudos: 132
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	Food Prep

“Would ya like some water while ya wait, Meian-san?”

Meian snaps into attention at the voice. “Ah, yes. Thank you, Miya-san.”

His eyes flit upwards to catch his broad back before it disappears beyond the kitchen doors. His gaze lingers through the glass panel on the door, watching Osamu navigate the kitchen on the other side before he pries his eyes away. He cannot stop looking. 

How can he, when the younger man has been staring back at him all night?

Osamu goes back to the counter, sliding the glass of water in front of Meian who whispers his thanks. In the corner of his eyes, he sees Osamu take a rag and wipe the counter with it. He doesn’t point out that the counter has already been cleaned a while ago. After all, how can he complain when he is benefitting from the show, his eyes stealing glances at the roll of Osamu’s biceps under his sleeves. 

Which is stupid, and it frustrates Meian to no end. He is exposed to buff men 24/7 who literally play sports for a living. Bokuto alone can give Osamu a run for his money. 

Yet there is something different about Osamu lifting sacks of rice to the kitchen, hands deftly shaping onigiris with utmost precision, that makes Meian weak in the knees.

“Still waitin’ for yer _friend_ , Meian-san?” Meian tenses as he catches Osamu’s tone, wondering if the man has caught on in his lie. He scratches the back of his neck and laughs nervously. “Uh, yeah. It’s just takin’ a while. He’s just a little…” Meian’s voice trails off, blindly searching for a word. “Shy.”

“Shy,” Osamu echoes, one eyebrow raised mischievously. “I see.”

He folds the rag and sets it on the shelf below the counter before looking straight at Meian. “Well, I have somethin’ to show ya in the kitchen while ya wait, if ya want. I’ll just be in there.” Heat surges to his face as Osamu reaches out and traces a finger along the lines of his biceps, accentuated by the tight fit of his dri-fit shirt.

Meian’s eyes cut to the only customer left inside Onigiri Miya who is working through his last onigiri as Osamu goes back kitchen. He knows what Osamu is implying. He’s not stupid. He knows — _feels_ — the way Osamu’s eyes linger on him, if only because he is always looking, too. 

Then there’s the Miya Atsumu of it all. How is his own temperamental teammate going to react to this? 

He knows he should be rational. He should just leave the restaurant and shower it off in his cold, lonely Osaka apartment. Nothing a good old wanking can’t fix.

But who is he kidding, anyway?

Meian grunts and walks towards the kitchen doors instead.

* * *

The broad expanse of Osamu’s back greets him. From his view Meian can see him shaping an onigiri, a tray holding five more and an array of ingredients set beside him: nori, umeboshi, tuna, bonito flakes, salt, sesame seeds, a pot of rice, a bowl of water. 

Osamu turns around and presents the onigiri to Meian with a smirk. “Want a taste, cap?”

He can feel his breaths grow shallow as he bridges the gap between them, taking the onigiri from Osamu with a mumbled thanks. Just as Meian takes a bite of the onigiri, though, a pair of hands hold his waist and pull him in, teeth biting onto the other end.

“Oops,” Osamu chuckles as grains of rice fall down their chin and to the floor. “Messy.”

Osamu’s grip on him tightens, and Meian feels the hard outline of Osamu’s bulge pressing against his abdomen. Osamu is now holding the onigiri, half-eaten between their mouths. 

Meian takes a step back and gulps. “Aren’t ya with that EJP blocker, Miya-san?” Osamu’s hands are still on his hips, now tracing the jutting bones underneath the dri-fit. “Rin? We’re in an open relationship, actually. Makes the whole LDR thing easier. Komori’s keepin’ him busy while he’s in Tokyo. Sometimes Washio. Anyone to his liking, really, dependin’ on his mood.”

One hand lets go of Meian’s hips, traipsing up and up until it finds his nipple, rubbing it slowly over the fabric. “I have been vacant for a while because of work, though. Got any other plans for tonight, _captain_?”

Osamu’s eyes darken as he rakes Meian in, the gaze burrowing deep down his gut until Meian just _snaps_.

* * *

Osamu knows the exact moment he finally got through his twin’s captain. 

His back snaps upright as he takes the half-eaten onigiri and places it on the tray, gripping Osamu’s waist hard enough to make him jerk. Then Meian beelines for Osamu’s lips, all speed and force.

It’s intense, intoxicating, the way Meian presses against his lips harshly. Meian’s hands slip past the hem of Osamu’s shirt, his fingers skating the dips and valleys of Osamu’s back as Meian’s teeth sinks down on his bottom lip. 

The force yanks a gasp out of Osamu, allowing Meian to run his tongue against his lips before slanting over Osamu’s. Meian tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his hold on Osamu’s hips bruisingly painful that it edges over pleasure. Meian navigates their bodies forward, Osamu struggling to follow until Osamu’s back hits the table. 

The kiss of the cold metal table on his skin, bare from where Meian is lifting it to skim his back, makes Osamu jerk, pressing their bodies together. The brief contact of their clothed hardness makes Meian groan and Osamu swallows it whole before raising a hand to yank on Meian’s hair to pull his lips away.

Meian’s eyes are glazed over, his lips plump and red and wet with drool. Suddenly, Osamu’s aware of how hard he is breathing, of how fucking bad he wants this.

He drops to his knees, the cool tiles making him hiss, and he trails a finger over Meian’s waistband, looking up in permission. Once Meian nods, Osamu makes quick work of undoing the zipper and bringing down the jeans in one fell swoop, Meian’s cock springing free before his eyes.

Osamu whispers a mumbled “fuck” as he tentatively grasps his length. Meian would have laughed — _almost_ laughs — at the way Osamu just _stares_ , but the intent dies once Osamu licks a stripe across his palm and begins pumping. 

Meian starts filling up nicely in his hands as Osamu moves his hand from base to tip. Meian’s groans are growing louder, his hands seeking purchase on Osamu’s brown locks. When Meian looks down, Osamu’s lips are parted and his eyes meet Meian’s head-on. “D’ya mind lookin’ at the door and checkin’ if we still have company, cap?”

Meian tamps down on another moan and looks over the small window, straining to check the tables — the man is gone, it seems — when Osamu decides to swallow him whole.

“Fuck, Samu!” He tightens his grip on Osamu’s hair and thrusts his hips forward on instinct, seeking the warm, wet heat of Osamu’s mouth. Osamu is looking up at him through his lashes, beautiful with his mouth filled to the brim with Meian’s cock.

Osamu lets go of the head with a pop, pumping shallowly as Osamu’s thumb pads through his leaking slit. “Shit, you’re big, cap,” he murmurs in between kitten licks along the head and long, calculated strokes down the throbbing veins that run along his length.

Meian is still catching his breath, still processing the sensations, his decisions, when he catches Osamu wink and wrap both arms around Meian’s thick thighs. “Want ya ta fuck my mouth, cap.” And Meian is _gone_.

Osamu is bobbing his head up and down Meian’s cock, his moans resonating deep down Meian’s bones. Meian didn’t even notice that he had begun thrusting until he felt the tip grazing Osamu’s throat, Osamu’s nose now scraping the bundle of hair at the base. 

He is about to lay off the thrusts, worried that it’s too much for Osamu, until he looks down and feels his dick twitch at the sight. Osamu is moaning softly, his cheeks hollowing as he goes. His eyes are shut in pleasure, and in the few seconds that they open, Meian sees more white than black, eyes rolled to the back in bliss. His jaw is slack, drool running down the side of his mouth that cannot be described as anything but lewd: all red and wet and _full_. Osamu is moving along his length with fervor, choking on saliva and cock, his eyes brimming with tears. 

The sight brings him to the edge and suddenly Meian is so close — _too_ close — so he jerks on Osamu’s hair tight and pulls his mouth away. Osamu mourns the loss, groaning. “Why? Ya were so close,” Osamu whines as he raises his forearm to wipe the drool away. 

He neglects the way his cock twitches at the way Osamu looks and keeps his voice even. “Up, Osamu.” He tugs sharply at Osamu’s hair and Osamu immediately rises, wobbly on his feet. He lifts Osamu until he is forced to cross his legs around Meian’s hips for balance, then he takes a few steps before dropping Osamu down the table with a soft clang as his back hits the surface. 

“Take yer shirt off.” The order sends Osamu scrambling for the hem of his shirt until it’s off and flying to the floor. Osamu can do nothing but gulp as Meian takes off his own shirt without breaking eye contact. His eyes trace every inch that is Meian Shuugo: his sculpted abs, his pecs, his cock still bobbing against his defined thighs.

Meian walks in between Osamu’s legs and yanks the latter’s joggers down, leaving behind his boxers. His fingers circle over the wet spot on the boxers, and Osamu finds himself squirming and opening his legs wide, resting his feet atop the table. “Ya like what you’re seein’, aren’t ya? Have ya been dreamin’ about this since ya visited yer twin?” 

The memory makes Osamu shudder. He realized he got it bad for Tsumu’s captain when he visited the MSBY complex and lingered at the locker room, waiting for his twin. Instead, he saw Meian, still wet from the shower with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips.

It should suffice to say that he has been jerking off to it since.

Meian’s warm hands on his waist break through his haze as he pulls Osamu until his hips are over the edge of the table. “Raise yer hips, Samu.” Osamu is moving on autopilot now, following Meian’s commands as though in a trance and raising his hips as Meian removes his boxers, grazing his legs as he goes.

And then Meian is hovering over him, drinking in his body with hooded eyes, muscles and skin bunching up under his feather-light touches. Something about Meian’s stare makes him want to shrivel and hide, yet it also makes him want to show everything, _give_ everything.

“I’m not gonna deny that. But _you’re_ the one who stayed behind tonight,” Osamu answers, his voice breathy and hoarse. Meian only hums and quirks an eyebrow.

The next thing he knows is that his back is arching off the table as Meian dips his fingers in the bowl of water and flicks cold water down his stomach.

It isn’t as defined as Meian’s — he’s no longer an athlete, after all — but Meian follows the trail of water with his finger, harboring predatory hunger as it glides from one muscle to the next. Meian leans forward and licks, catching the drop of water with his tongue.

“This is how ya make onigiri, right? Wet yer fingers first so the rice doesn’t stick,” he says with an air of casualness before trailing his tongue upwards until it reaches his nipple. He dips both hands on the bowl again before flicking both nipples as Osamu writhes beneath him. The cold gives him whiplash, making him moan.

“Hmm, using nori sounds nice,” Meian notes before taking two sheets of nori and rubbing them over Osamu’s nipples. The texture sends his mind into overdrive as Meian rubs his nipples through the nori, the buds growing stiffer and more sensitive by the second. He shouldn’t like it, they’re essentially wasting food, and yet—

“I know it’s not used for onigiris, but what is it called again? When whippin’ cream, ya whip until ya see,” then he pauses, pinching hard and grinning slyly, “stiff peaks.” 

Meian leans forward, his face so close to Osamu’s, and bites on the nori until both sheets are gone. “Glad ta know ya have high quality ingredients here, chef,” he comments with a swift lick of a tongue across his lips. Then he sucks on Osamu’s nipple, alternating between teeth grazing the sensitive bud and tongue gliding with languid strokes. 

“Of course, we can’t forget to _shape_ the rice, right?” His hands then begin cupping Osamu’s tits, smirking as the flesh mounds before his eyes. Meian moves to the nipple, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly before moving to the other. Meian does this while staring at Osamu’s blown out pupils, his eyes now more black than gray. 

Osamu watches as Meian stands upright, his fingers skirting down, giving his cock two firm strokes and spreading the precome down the shaft before settling on his ass. Meian caresses the muscle, cupping and squeezing it to his desires, until his finger reaches the ring of muscle and stops.

Meian circles the muscle with an eyebrow raised. He knows what lube feels like, and the realization makes his lips curl in satisfaction.

Then he inserts a finger with no pretense, the muscle open and yielding and unmistakably _wet_ for him.

His grin only widens as he slips another finger in with ease. Osamu is looking away, his cheeks turning dangerously red. Meian curls his fingers inside to grab Osamu’s attention, making Osamu jerk his hips at the touch. “So _this_ is why ya bolted the moment ya served our food. Ya were… busy.” 

He looks down as his fingers disappear within Osamu, watching in awe as Osamu keens and clenches against his digits. “Just how prepared are ya? Let’s find out, then,” he wonders bemusedly as he rapidly shoves in four fingers.

Osamu feels a slight burn but his body accepts — seeks for — Meian’s fingers anyway, the muscles opening with ease. Osamu bucks his hips towards the touch and moans loudly, no longer holding back as Meian rhythmically pulses his fingers in and out. “Meian… Meian, please…”

Meian only increases the pace, leaning to press a kiss on the corner of Osamu’s lips. “What is it, baby? What d’ya want?”

Osamu mewls at the sound of _baby_ , his hips jerking once more and his dick twitching in between them. He can barely keep his eyes open, can barely string the right words and he hasn’t even been rightfully fucked. “Want — want yer cock, captain. Please. _Please_. Fuck me, cap.”

His desperation is rolling off of him in waves, and Meian drinks it all. Meian tilts his head and bites on Osamu’s neck, ensuring that he’s leaving a mark. “Well, if my baby asks so nicely.”

Osamu vaguely points towards a nearby drawer. Meian pulls it up and sees lube and condoms inside, haphazardly thrown in a drawer full of Onigiri Miya takeout boxes. Doubt creeps in his mind as he rips the foil open and pours lube over his cock and his fingers.

Then he looks back at Osamu, a panting and writhing mess on the table, achingly hard with his legs wide open just for him.

Meian shoves his fingers back inside Osamu to lubricate him more, Osamu thrusting against his fingers and gasping audibly. “Please, please, put it in. I want ya. I want ya _so_ bad.”

His primal desires grip him then, leaving no room for hesitation. Soon he is lining himself and sinking inside Osamu, edging past the tight ring of muscle before bottoming out, groaning as his hips dig against Osamu’s ass.

Meian rubs his fingers in soothing circles along Osamu’s flank, waiting for his body to adjust. He grinds his hips ever so lightly, eliciting tiny gasps from Osamu. “Shit, ya took it in so nicely, look at ya.”

Osamu gasps at the praise and Meian takes the chance to plunge his fingers in his mouth. Osamu doesn’t waste a second and begins sucking, tongue licking fervently around the digits as his eyelids flutter in bliss. “Yer so pretty like this, Samu.”

Then Osamu jerks his hips, and Meian begins pulling out until the tip is out. Then he slams in again and pleasure surges down Osamu’s spine, twin moans escaping from their mouths. 

Meian quickens his pace, pounding faster as Osamu clenches for him over and over again, his fingers still in Osamu’s mouth. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me, Samu _._ ”

The sound of his name in Meian’s voice overrides his whole body with sensation, and fuck he wants to hear it more, wants to hear Meian scream his name as he fucks him six ways to Sunday.

Osamu begins meeting his thrusts, and the table begins creaking with them. He pushes down, _down_ , wanting more of that sweet, sweet pressure against his prostate, wanting more of Meian, Meian, _Meian—_

“Captain,” he blurts out, panting heavily, “Please, cap, wreck me.”

All he hears is a sharp “shit” before Meian adjusts his hold on Osamu’s hips, lifting him until his ass is off the table. 

Then he _thrusts_.

The new angle is so much more vulnerable yet so, so much better, as Meian uses his hips as leverage to thrust consistently against his prostate. Osamu wraps his legs around Meian’s hips as they shake uncontrollably, his hands gripping the edges of the table so hard his knuckles turn white, a steady stream of tears running down his cheeks. 

“Ya like that, huh? Ya like it hard, don’t ya?” Meian says with a sharp jerk of his hips, eliciting a shout from Osamu’s lungs as he nods repeatedly like a bobblehead. Meian rams into Osamu faster and faster and _faster_ , his nails digging into Osamu’s hips, and his eyes flutter shut at the rush of sensation. “Yer such a slut for my cock, Samu. Look at ya, cryin’ for me.”

When Osamu finds the strength to open his eyes, the sight that welcomes him almost sends him to the edge. How could he not when he sees Meian with his head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth gaping as tiny, breathy moans escape his lips, his hands a vice grip on his waist Osamu knows he will bruise, and his hips. God, Osamu is lost in a trance as he watches Meian’s hips piston against him with relentless speed, grinding deep within him. “Meian... yes, don’t stop...”

“Samu, ya feel so good. Such a good boy.” The baritone in Meian’s voice shakes Osamu down to his core, making him whimper and writhe. _Good boy_. Meian leans in without losing speed or intensity, then he grips and lifts his hips higher. The angle makes it deeper, _so_ much deeper, it makes his toes curl and his eyes roll.

Meian pushes forward, yanking Osamu’s raw nipple with his teeth before working his way up to his collarbones, his neck, and to his earlobes where he whispers, deep and low, “Come for me, then, baby.”

That’s all Osamu needed as his whole body shudders at the intensity of his orgasm, his throat raw as he moans and screams Meian’s name, clenching tight and hot as Meian fucks him through it. “Fuck, keep comin’ for me. _Baby_ , you’re so good.” The encouragement makes him tremble all-over again. His spine contorts and his hips rise even higher, spilling all over the prep table, his chest, his face. It isn’t long before Meian follows, hips jerking in deep, sharp thrusts as the pleasure mounts and mounts. Meian thrusts one last time — deep and hard — and stills as he comes, shooting into the condom and softly grinding against Osamu as his climax washes over him.

Meian can’t find it in himself to pull out even after the high fades. He wants to stay in his warmth, still pulsing faintly around his cock. Instead, he pulls Osamu upright and presses his lips against Osamu’s. Osamu weakly raises a hand to Meian’s chest, softly thumbing at his nipples as they moan against each other’s mouths, still catching their breaths.

It’s only then that they hear footsteps. They turn around to see Suna walking from the back door, a knowing grin in his lips as he spins a keychain holding what looks to be his copy of the restaurant keys on his fingers.

Meian tenses as Suna approaches and runs his hands through his boyfriend’s hair, pulling him in a deep kiss. “That was hot, Samu.”

Osamu is clearly still not out of it, his movements sluggish and his words slurring. “Ya didn’t tell me ya were comin’, babe.”

Suna grins, trailing a finger over the bites and hickeys on Osamu’s neck in fascination. “Did you really think Atsumu came up with the idea of bringing the team here in Onigiri Miya? Of course not. He told me ya were beginning to take interest in Meian-san, so I knew I had to do something because you weren’t going to. And of course I can’t miss _this_.”

Meian doesn’t know what to do, standing there naked in front of the couple. Suna cuts his gaze towards him and smirks, making Meian jerk upright. “If you’re not in any rush to go back to Osaka, you can crash with us, Meian-san. I’m sure Samu would love that.”

The invitation seems casual enough if not for the way Suna reaches out a finger down Meian’s chest to his abs, his stare and grin anything but innocent.

Meian turns to look at the clock above the wall. It’s still 9 p.m. “Sure. Why not?”

They have the whole night ahead of them. Meian wants more.

And he’s getting it.

**Author's Note:**

> Making a separate pseud for my lewd works to keep my main SFW. But also because I'm still not confident about my smut writing skills (or in general, really). Hope this offering for the OsaMei Nation is somewhat decent. ❤


End file.
